


Luster

by pl2363



Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Cheeseball, Flirting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-16
Updated: 2013-08-16
Packaged: 2017-12-23 17:14:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/929052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pl2363/pseuds/pl2363
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sunstreaker is laid up in medbay, and Perceptor ends up playing nurse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Luster

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the tf rare pair prompt: Perceptor/Sunstreaker: spit/polish
> 
> This came out really weird and cheesy. Is that my writing style? Maybe it is... xD
> 
> No beta, grammar abuse ahead. Also written quickly, will probably go back and fix mistakes as I find them later.

Perceptor didn’t mind assisting in medbay when required. It was a nice change of pace from more solitary pursuits in his lab, and in the aftermath of the last encounter with Devastator there had been multiple serious injuries, which meant Perceptor had been drafted into action.

“Perceptor!”

He jumped slightly at Ratchet’s barked call from a back surgical suite. He turned away from his task of distributing energon to the injured, and peered into to the room.

Ratchet looked up. “There you are. Grab me the neural scanner, will ya?” he asked while hunched over Skyfire’s head. He’d removed Skyfire’s dented helm and was performing delicate work to repair the damaged pathways.

“Of course.” Perceptor spun around and crossed to the shelving area where the tools and scanners were stored in medbay.

“They get energon but I don’t? What gives?”

Perceptor glanced over at the patient currently in the berth closest to him, Sunstreaker. “I apologize, Ratchet requires a scanner. I will be right back.”

“Whatever,” Sunstreaker replied with a petulant frown.

Perceptor internally sighed as he swept past him. Skyfire’s entire neurological function could be compromised, but, as per usual, Sunstreaker only thought of himself.

“Here you are,” Perceptor said as he stepped into the surgical suite, holding the scanner out.

“Great, now hold it about here, so I can see the readings while I reconnect some of these pathways,” Ratchet said, holding his hand up where he wanted the scanner.

Unlike other patients, Skyfire was quite large, and the normal setup of medical monitors didn’t reach to where Ratchet needed. Perceptor moved in closer, holding the scanner in place as Ratchet worked.

What he assumed would be a few minutes slipped into an hour. Perceptor vaguely wondered if Sunstreaker was throwing a fit, but knowing there was nothing he could do at the moment, he tried to put it out of his mind.

“Thanks, Perceptor,” Ratchet said as he sat back on his stool and set down his tools on the small table beside him. “You’re free to go.” He took the scanner from Perceptor, and waved him off.

Perceptor’s gaze lingered on Skyfire’s offlined form for a moment before he exited the room. He hoped the gentle shuttle would be back on his feet soon.

Back out in the main medbay, the majority of the patients were recharging. It was nearing third shift for the evening, and about time for most of them to naturally be resting. He dimmed the lighting, and then picked up an energon cube on his way to see Sunstreaker.

Sprawled out over the berth, Sunstreaker was among those who’d fallen into recharge. Perceptor set the cube down on the berthside table, as he glanced up at the monitor’s the readings for the golden-colored warrior. Everything seemed to be stable. Shifting his gaze to socket where Sunstreaker’s left arm was once attached, he frowned. It had been ripped clean off by Devastator, and Ratchet was still waiting for the assigned scout team to find and bring it back, among other various mech’s missing parts. Due to the limited facilities on this planet, fabrication was out of the question.

Grunting in his recharge, Sunstreaker shifted slightly on the berth, then began to half-mumble incoherent words.

 _Most likely_ _experiencing memory feedback,_ Perceptor thought as he watched him.

“Hey, Perceptor...”

He turned his attention toward the hushed voice calling to him. Sideswipe stood just inside the medbay entrance, hugging a gold arm to his chest. Beside him stood Gears and a large container on wheels.

Walking toward the entrance, Perceptor greeted them with a smile. “I see you found a much sought after item.”

“Yeah, an arm to sooth the savage Sunny,” Sideswipe said with a chuckle.

“We have all the other scrap parts we found, too,” Gears said as he tapped the edge of the container. “Though, don’t know what good they’ll do. They are all dented and ruined.”

Perceptor peered inside at the multi-colored plating that lined the bottom. “More good than you probably realize.” He then reached out, taking Sunstreaker’s arm from Sideswipe. “As soon as your brother is repaired, I will comm. you, Sideswipe.”

“Thanks,” Sideswipe said as he slapped Perceptor’s shoulder hard.

“Of course,” Perceptor replied.

…

Waking with a start, Sunstreaker jerked in the berth as his optics flared on. Unsure what woke him, he looked around and saw his detached arm on a table that had been wheeled over. He frowned at it, remembering how much it hurt to have it ripped off like it was nothing more than a tab on metal can. He then glanced down at his body, seeing a tube connected to the external link for his fuel tank along with a cable jacked into an access port on his side.

“Alright, let’s get this thing back on, huh?” Ratchet said as he approached with Perceptor on his heels.

Sunstreaker glowered. “Having all this junk connected to me necessary?”

“Yes. You never roused from recharge this morning, and I noticed your fuel level had dropped dangerously low. In addition, your body was attempting to heal over the sensory paths where the arm had been severed, which would make it a far more painful road to recovery if I hadn’t plugged you in and overrode the autorepair protocols,” Perceptor said.

“Dangerously low because _someone_ never gave me my cube last night,” Sunstreaker replied with a dark look directed at Perceptor.

Ratchet hit the side of his wrench on the berth with a loud clang. “Don’t be a pain in my aft, Sunstreaker. This may come as a shock, you _aren’t_ the center of the universe.” With that, he plopped down on his stool. “Now do me a favor and keep your smart mouth shut while I put your arm back on.”

Sunstreaker knew better than to say anything else. Ratchet could be cranky, but when he was this full of ire, that usually meant he’d been up all night doing repairs. Didn’t mean Sunstreaker wasn’t irritated with Perceptor for skipping him on the rations last night, though.

Wasting no time, Ratchet was soon busily working to get his arm back in place. Sunstreaker winced and clenched his dentia, doing his best to handle the intense influx of pain. Perceptor remained quiet as he assisted, handing Ratchet what he needed when he asked, but looking vaguely worried at the same time.

“His vitals are pushing into red for sensory tolerances,” Perceptor said. “Perhaps we shou--”

“Almost got the rotor in place--” Ratchet wrenched on the arm, the ball joint finally pushing into the socket with a sharp snap. “There.”

The pain of his arm reconnecting flared over his sensory net, and Sunstreaker’s vision whited out. It hurt almost as much going back on as it had being ripped off. His mouth gaped in a wordless cry before he blacked out.

…

The world felt hazy as Sunstreaker drifted toward consciousness. It felt like he was swimming in a thick fog as he fought to online his optics. Lighting them, he saw the light orange ceiling of medbay overhead. In a daze, he turned his head and saw Perceptor sitting on a stool beside his berth, reading a datapad.

“Why is everything... messed up?” Sunstreaker asked.

Perceptor glanced up from his datapad. “Your sensory net crashed. It’s been rebooted entirely, so it will take some time for it to completely come back online.”

“Oh.” He stared at Perceptor for a moment, wondering why he was sitting at his berthside. “Um, why are you here?”

Perceptor continued to read his datapad, and answered without looking up. “Ratchet was in dire need of some rest, so I’m currently in charge of medbay until his return.”

Sunstreaker vaguely frowned. “I meant, why are you next to my berth?”

“To monitor your condition.” Perceptor momentarily glanced up at Sunstreaker, offering a small smile. He then looked at Sunstreaker’s arm. “Tell me, are you able to move your arm yet?”

“I don’t know.” Sunstreaker lifted his reattached arm up slightly, bending it at the elbow and curling his fingers into a fist. “Works.” He then realized he was getting no sensation from his hips and below. “Is it normal to not feel my legs, though?”

“With a sensory net reboot all functions have to re-establish connections to your processor. This means areas furthest from your processor are the last to finish updating,” Perceptor replied.

“Was that a ‘yes’?” Sunstreaker asked, half-smiling at the over explanation.

Perceptor sheepishly smiled. “Yes.”

They exchanged looks for a moment, then Perceptor bowed his head and resumed his reading.

Sunstreaker continued to move his arm around, splaying and curling the fingers. He was relieved they found it and got it back on, even if had been one of Ratchet’s rougher procedures.

He glanced down at his frame and ran a finger over his chest, drawing a line in the dust coating his plating. He frowned, attempting to rub it off. It was useless, though. He only made it look worse, creating lots of streaks, and huffed in annoyance.

“Is there something wrong?” Perceptor asked.

Glancing up, Sunstreaker shrugged his shoulder. “Usually take a run through the wash racks after a battle. This planet’s dirt is always sticking to my plating no matter how much I wax it.”

“Ah yes. The soil and pollution do tend to get everywhere here. I’m constantly cleaning my scope’s glass.” Perceptor pushed to stand, setting his datapad down on his stool. “Give me a moment. I think there are cleaning supplies hidden in a cabinet in Ratchet’s office.”

Sunstreaker watched Perceptor disappear, and softly sighed. He felt bad for being so mad at him before.

“Here we are,” Perceptor said as he emerged from the office with a cleaning cloth and bottle of solvent.

“I appreciate that, but I can’t feel anything below my waist, let alone sit up to clean myself,” Sunstreaker replied with a regretful smile.

Perceptor gave Sunstreaker a sheepish look. “I _could_ clean your plating for you. But only if you’re comfortable with that. I mean, I’d hate to overstep boundaries in anyway, or give the wrong impress--”

“Sure.” Sunstreaker grinned. Perceptor was sort of cute for a geeky scientist.

“Ah, well, right then.” Setting the supplies on the berthside table, Perceptor prepped the cloth, wetting it down with the solution. He turned toward Sunstreaker, gaze jumping around. “Where should I start?”

“At my feet? They’re really coated in dust,” Sunstreaker said.

“At the feet. Very logical,” Perceptor said as he moved to the end of the berth and began his self-assigned task.

Sunstreaker felt pretty spoiled as he watched Perceptor. He’d never been _this_ pampered before. Sure, he’d indulged in hand waxes at the local car wash on occasion, but those were just humans. This was entirely different. This was another mech. Not to mention the added weirdness of not being able to feel Perceptor’s hands or the cloth over his leg plating.

His vague discomfort faded as he saw the gleam of his golden paint shine through. He really missed Cybertron sometimes. It was so much easier to stay looking good when he wasn’t constantly being barraged by organic dirt.

Before he knew it, both legs were back to their usual luster. Perceptor re-wet the cloth, and offered a friendly smile before pushing the cloth over Sunstreaker’s hips. Okay, _that_ he felt... He did his best to repress a shiver at the intimate touch. The cleanser felt cool over his plating and Perceptor’s thorough care only made it even more awkward for him. Unconsciously curling his fingers into the berth, Sunstreaker did his best not to visibly react.

“I see you can feel this area now, hm?” Perceptor moved up Sunstreaker’s torso with the cloth as he gave him a side glance.

“Ah, yeah,” Sunstreaker replied, frowning. “How could you tell?”

Perceptor chuckled a little. “Heated plating. Though, you weren’t squirming, which I most certainly would have been.”

Sunstreaker half-smiled at Perceptor, suddenly having very inappropriate thoughts about what he might be like in the berth. “So you’re a squirmer, huh? _Interesting_.”

The look on Perceptor’s face was priceless. Wide-opticked and mouth slightly agape, Perceptor was left flailing for a reply. “I, um, well, I didn’t mean...”

“I know, I’m just messing with you.” Sunstreaker replied, laughing a little.

Perceptor nervously laughed in reply, and then resumed cleaning, clearly flustered by Sunstreaker’s tease.

Contrary to what most assumed, he didn’t really like going for extroverted mechs like Jazz or Bluestreak. He’d always found the quieter mechs were a lot more fun to ‘face. Getting them to let go of their inhibitions was almost never a disappointment. By the reaction he got, though, it was pretty clear Perceptor hadn’t ‘faced anyone in a long time.

“I appreciate you doing this for me,” Sunstreaker said, finally breaking the uncomfortable silence.

“You are very welcome. I know how much your appearance means to you,” Perceptor replied, moving the cloth over his chest.

Lifting his up arm, Sunstreaker drew a line up Perceptor’s side. “I’d be happy to return the favor if you ever wanted.”

Stiffening at the touch, Perceptor froze and stared down at him with bright optics. “That’s not necessary...”

Sunstreaker chuckled. “Might not be necessary, but it would definitely be fun.”

“Oh, ah, well...” Perceptor frowned as he straightened his posture and nervously twisted the cloth in his hands. “I’m flattered, but I’m not sure that I should agree to something like that.”

“Why not? The way I see it, if we’re risking our lives day in and day out, then we may as well enjoy ourselves when we can,” Sunstreaker replied.

Perceptor smiled a little. “I suppose that has it’s own logic.”

“That a yes? I’ll wax you up so shiny you’d look factory new,” Sunstreaker replied.

Confusion clouded Perceptor’s face. “Wax?”

“What did you think? I was asking to ‘face you?” Sunstreaker raised an optic ridge at Perceptor, knowing full well he’d made it sound that way.

“Well, you know, it sounded somewhat implied,” Perceptor said with a sheepish smile.

Sunstreaker grinned. “That’s because it was.”

Perceptor smiled as he looked away. “Oh...”


End file.
